


Open Up My Eager Eyes

by PinkCanary



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Oblivious Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkCanary/pseuds/PinkCanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke definitely hates this.  But not for the reasons that Raven suspects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Up My Eager Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my submission for The 100 Femslash Challenge. Thanks so much to bgonemydear and gohandinhand for beta reading/editing this!

“You’re definitely going to hate this,” Raven says, as she breezes through the door to Clarke’s apartment without even knocking. 

Not that this is any different than any other day. Clarke doesn’t even look up from her laptop.

“That statement should probably scare me more than it does. Especially coming from you.”

Raven uses one arm propped against the arm of the sofa to lower herself down gingerly, and Clarke has to grab on to her laptop to keep it from being unseated when Raven suddenly swings her good leg into Clarke’s lap. 

Also, not much different from any other day.

“Finn is getting married,” Raven finally starts, and she doesn’t look up to meet Clarke’s gaze, even when Clarke’s head swings widely in Raven’s direction. “Some girl he’s known for approximately ten days.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise -- not to either of them -- but it still stings. To know what they can both be replaced that quickly. 

“He called me. Specifically,” Raven continues. “I guess having known the guy since we were six years old gets me a personal invitation. He wants me to come to the wedding.”

Clarke’s breath escapes her in a quiet huff. _Of course he would_. “You know that you shouldn’t feel like you have to go,” she says.

“Of course I don’t have to go. But I was thinking that Finn would _really_ hate it if I showed up with a super hot date.”

It’s practically the plot to a dumb romantic comedy. It is the plot to a dumb romantic comedy -- maybe even _every_ dumb romantic comedy. “Well, you know that you won’t have any trouble finding an attractive person to go with. I mean, look at you.”

(Clarke certainly doesn’t have any trouble looking at her.)

Raven’s smile is spreading across her face, and her eyes have just a hint of _evil_ to them, and— oh.

_Oh._

*

Clarke definitely hates this.

But not for the reasons that Raven suspects.

Bellamy thinks the entire thing is _hilarious_. 

“Let me get this straight, Clarke,” he says one night, after his third beer. “Straight being entirely the wrong word for the whole situation, but I’m going to go with it. You’ve fallen in love with the ex-girlfriend of the guy who used you to cheat on her.”

Clarke shakes her head, miserable. “I’m not in love with her,” she protests, weakly.

“You just think she’s gorgeous and amazing and you want to make out her with and maybe one day have her babies. Oh god.” He pauses. “Your babies would be _adorable_.”

“That isn’t how science works, Bell. And that really isn’t the point.”

He’s still smirking at her. Three-beer-Bellamy is really _the worst_. “The point is that you _like_ her.”

Clarke sighs. “We just started hanging out a lot after the whole thing with Finn. And she is really smart and really funny and…” Clarke trails off, gesturing vaguely with the hand that isn’t currently holding a bottle of beer.

“And you want to have her babies.”

“I would consider it,” she says, dejected. “But it doesn’t matter. She isn’t interested in me like that.”

Bellamy is looking at her peculiarly. “And she’s told you this?”

“No! Just… I mean, she’s Raven. If she was interested, I would know.” Clarke traces her finger through the ring of condensation on the table, and only looks up when Bellamy claps his hand on her shoulder encouragingly.

“You two are both smart and _fucking awesome_.. If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen.” He squeezes Clarke’s shoulder briefly, before letting go to signal the bartender for another round of drinks. 

“Not to mention that you’ll have the best ‘how we met’ story of all time.”

*

Clarke is gulping down a cup of coffee on her break at work, when she gets a Snapchat from Raven. Her breath catches. 

Raven is in a store changing room, holding her phone up to take a picture in the mirror. She’s wearing a long, black sheath dress -- spaghetti straps, a slit up to mid-thigh that shows off a tantalizing amount of tan leg. It isn’t the first time that Clarke has seen Raven _cleaned up_ , but it’s definitely the most glamourous. 

The text across the photo reads “Too formal?” and Clarke feels a smile stretching across her face at Raven’s challenging expression, before the photo disappears. 

Clarke sends back a selfie of herself in her scrubs in the break room. She sticks her tongue out at the camera, and adds the text “too formal to be my date”.

The only response she gets is a snap of Raven pouting at her.

*

“We should change our Facebook status,” Raven says. “Make it official.”

“What?” Clarke asks. They’re sitting on the sofa and Clarke _might_ be curled up against Raven’s body as they watch Netflix, but that’s only because it’s fucking _cold_ and Raven is an unnatural heat source. 

“I listed you as my plus one on the RSVP card, but Finn is just going to assume that we’re going as friends. If we really want to fuck with him, he has to think that we’re actually dating. Make it Facebook official.” 

Clarke’s brain grinds to a halt. Like, she can practically hear the gears creaking and stopping. It’s uncanny.

“But what are--,” she starts, and then has to pause for a moment to collect her bearings and figure out where she’s actually trying to _go_. “But if we do that, _everyone else_ is going to think that we’re together, as well.” 

Raven arches one eyebrow, and gives her a look that could be correctly interpreted as _no shit_. “We can’t keep being ‘just friends’ right up until the wedding, or it won’t be believable. We need everyone else to think that we’re dating, or else no one is going to believe it at the wedding.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, concisely.

Raven grabs her phone off of the table, guesses her passcode in two tries, and then navigates her way through the Facebook app. After another few moments, she tosses Clarke’s phone back down.

“Done,” she says, just as Clarke’s phone starts to go fucking nuts with notifications. 

Within an hour, her relationship update has 107 likes and 42 comments. 

“IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME,” declares Octavia’s message.

*

Clarke nearly chokes when Raven sends her pictures of her trying on a tailored suit. She is wearing black pants and a stylish vest that nips in at the waist to accentuate her toned curves. She doesn’t seem to be wearing a shirt underneath the vest, and the neckline dips dangerously low, providing a tantalizing view of Raven’s generous cleavage. 

“Tie or no tie?” reads the snapchat text. 

Clarke is still staring open-mouthed at her phone, when another photo arrives. Raven, in the same outfit, but with a dark burgundy tie tied neatly around her neck. She is grinning rakishly for the camera, one eyebrow raised almost in challenge. 

“No tie. No question.” Clarke finally replies a few minutes later, once she has regained control of her motor functions. 

One more photo comes through a second later. This time, the tie is gone once again, and Raven is holding the phone high above her as she snaps the selfie. It’s practically indecent. 

“Good to know,” Raven replies.

*

“Where was our first date?” Raven asks, around a mouthful of pasta.

Clarke blinks at her several times.

“Our _fake_ first date, Clarke,” Raven clarifies. “You’re really terrible at this. It’s like you’ve never watched a 90s sitcom.”

Clarke hesitates. She can think of a dozen places that she would take Raven for their first date, but that is really the problem. She doesn’t want Raven to think that _she’d_ thought about it. Finally, she offers cautiously, “How about that Thai place down the street?”

Raven wrinkles her nose. “We go there all the time. With Bellamy and Monty and Jasper.”

“It’s believable!”

“Naw, I would definitely put in more effort than that, for you,” Raven says, winking.

Clarke has to take a second to recover from _that_. “Ok, what do you suggest, then?”

Raven is silent for a moment, thoughtful. “I think we’d probably go somewhere _different_. Like for a walk by the lake, and I’d buy you ice cream.”

“How is that different?” Clarke asks.

Raven smirks. “I’d hold your hand and we would definitely make out under a tree. Guaranteed.”

The images immediately flood Clarke’s brain and she gulps audibly. Because that wasn’t obvious _at all_. 

“Oh. I guess that would be… nice,” she finally manages.

“Fictional you was definitely into it,” Raven says, twirling another mouthful of pasta on her fork.

Clarke has no doubt about that.

*

The Snapchat message is just a photo -- no text. Raven is posing in front of a dressing room mirror in a deep red dress. One-shouldered, fitted through the waist and hips before flaring slightly, and ending a few inches above the knee. The dark red looks amazing against Raven’s skin, and the dress shows off her toned shoulders and arms, and her muscular legs. 

Without even thinking, Clarke screenshots the photo… and then cringes. The next message comes almost immediately. 

_I’m taking that as you putting in your vote for this one, then? ;)_

Fuck.

*

“Well, we should definitely kiss,” Raven says, very seriously. It’s the night before Finn’s wedding, and it’s possible that they should not have opened the second bottle of wine, but Clarke is so beyond… really _anything_ right now.

And so that’s why the only thing she can come up with is a pointed, “Why?”

Raven sighs. As if Clarke is the most frustrating thing she’s had to deal with in weeks. And really, she probably is. “We’re going to have to kiss at the wedding, and it can’t look like we’ve never done it before. We don’t want to look all awkward when everyone thinks we’ve been together for months now.” 

It makes sense. Of course it does. But it doesn’t stop Clarke’s heart from hammering in her chest like she just sprinted a mile. 

Which is really more Raven’s thing, honestly.

“Okay,” Clarke finally says, and she blames the second bottle of wine. “Let’s do it.”

Raven’s breath is warm on Clarke’s lips when she leans forward, and her hands come up to cup Clarke’s face. She pauses, and Clarke can’t even move; doesn’t dare take a breath. 

“Your move,” Raven whispers -- of course she would -- and she waits there, barely a breath away from Clarke’s lips. And suddenly, Clarke is surging forward. Raven’s lips are soft and dry and she tastes vaguely of red wine. Her hand tangles in Raven’s ponytail as she tries to bring her closer, and Raven responds by maneuvering so that their thighs are pressed together as they sit on Clarke’s sofa. 

Dimly, Clarke realizes that the kiss has gone on much longer than any “practising” kiss really should have, but Raven’s tongue is teasing at the seam of Clarke’s lips so Clarke just opens her mouth and sinks into Raven. 

When they finally pull apart, Raven is grinning at her expectantly. 

“What?” Clarke asks, self-consciously.

“I really didn’t think I would have to stoop to those levels. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Clarke knows she must look puzzled; dumbfounded. Because really, she is. 

“I’ve been completely obvious, Clarke,” Raven says, still grinning widely. “I had to bring out every single big gun, and you _still_ didn’t figure it out.” 

Clarke really didn’t, but she’s starting to. 

“You mean, you,” Clarke says, trailing off. “You’re interested in me… like that?”

“Obviously,” Raven answers. “Well, maybe obvious to everyone except for you.”

She has no idea what to say, and so she just kisses Raven again. Because she really has no reason _not to_ and now that she can do it, she finds that she really doesn’t want to stop. 

“This wedding is going to be _the best_ ,” Raven says, much later. 

*

And really, the wedding _is_ the best. 

Clarke and Raven spend much of the reception dancing, bodies pressed close together, and they absolutely get caught making out in the bathroom by Finn’s grandmother. Finn freaks out to the point that that vein in his forehead starts to throb noticeably. 

It’s _amazing_.

And then on the car ride home, Raven lays her hand on Clarke’s thigh and smirks. “I have the best ideas.”

And yeah, Clarke would have to admit that she does.


End file.
